


Raising Honesty

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apologies, Lecturing, M/M, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:43:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 17: Home.  Dean and Sam make their apology for the hunt in prompt 16 that they screwed up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raising Honesty

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

Sam’s the first to blink awake in the morning, aware of the sunlight that’s streaming over his pillow, but not yet reached Dean’s. He rolls onto his back, hoping to minimize the light in his eyes, and barely stifles the yelp. His ass is STILL on fire after last night. He’d been debating about whether to wake Dean or not, but that clinches it for him. He notes the fact that Dean’s sleeping on his back – how the hell is he managing that – and he leans over, and presses in a long kiss. Dean begins to wake slowly, but then he moves to put a hand to the back of his head, and his eyes fly open, and Sam’s sure of it – that’s pain crinkling the corners of his big brother’s eyes. Dean looks a little desperate.

“Sam, dude, it’s not you, but I gotta move, get off me.”

Sam chuckles, stays on his side, and watches Dean shift fast. Dean’s relieved, and pulls Sam in close, returning the interrupted kiss. He breaks off and gives Sam a wicked grin. “And you’re not gonna holler if I roll you on your back?” Sam’s shudder is all the answer he needs. Both of them cling to one another in a sort of desperate comfort, though neither one would admit it. Neither one of them is in the least bit aroused for once, either. They lie there quietly, as the sunlight creeps the rest of the way across the bed. It’s got to be about 9 AM, Dean figures.

“Dude. Do we get up, or wait for him?” Sam sounds anxious. Dean ruffles the kid’s hair.

“We go shower, and maybe get dressed kind of slow, make sure the room’s picked up,” he says confidently. “If he’s not up here by the time we’re done, we go down.”

Sam looks relieved. “Good plan.”

They don’t spend long in the shower either, just getting cleaned up, and looking surreptitiously at one another’s behinds. Sam grabs Dean before he leaves the tiny bathroom, and he gestures at the mirror.

“Sam, I’m not sure I WANT to see,” he says in a quiet whisper, but Sam yanks him back anyways. Sam’s definitely more bruised this morning, and Dean winces a little. It’s been a while since John’s been that hard on Dean, and he wouldn’t want to be in Sam’s pants, he thinks. And that gives him a thought. Sam’s reaching in his drawer, and Dean swats the boy’s hands away from the favorite flannel pants the boy is digging out. He digs in both their drawers, and hands Sam the pair of sweatpants he knows are the newest and thickest, and pulls out his own pair. Sam nods in satisfaction. They clean up slowly in the room, and sure enough, there’s a curt knock and their father’s coming in the door. Sam’s folding laundry out of the basket, and Dean’s sorting their dirty clothes out. He leans against the doorjamb, and both boys straighten to face him. They stand side by side, and John has to choke back a smile, because they did the same thing when they were children, and their positioning tells him a few things he needs to know.

They’re standing side by side, and John knows the meaning of that. They were partners in crime this time, Sam didn’t talk Dean into it, nor did Dean steamroller Sam into action. They’ve got their hands clasped behind their backs, and that’s a pretty damn good indicator that they’re still feeling last night’s punishment. John feels a twinge of guilt at that, doesn’t like to punish the boys that hard, but it was warranted, he thinks. He feels slightly worse to see the position from Sam, because really, he can count the number of time’s he’s let someone other than himself mete out a serious punishment to his boys on one hand. And relief washes over him, because both boys can’t quite bring themselves to look him in the eye, and he understands, deeper than they think he does, that they’re both regretting their actions, so much so that they’re not sure what to say to him. He’s not going to have to punish them again, he knows, but he needs to get to the bottom of things here, and that’s going to take some stern language, and maybe a swat or two as a reminder.

“Finish up your chores, there,” he says gruffly, and takes a seat on the chair next to the bed. He’s sat in that chair for hours before, watching over his boys while they were sick, or waiting for them to pull through after a hunt gone bad, and the memory of it tears at him. He sits and watches the two of them work a little faster than they were before, and fights down the aching memories, the fierce instinct of protection screaming up out of his soul. He’ll take it, though, it’ll give him the strength to make sure they’re straightened out before he goes back downstairs.

Dean finishes first, and stands at the foot of the bed, at perfect attention, which seems to make Sam a little nervous. John wonders again if he should have let Bobby take the boy in hand, but discipline applied fast always works better with both boys, and he can’t doubt himself now. Sam takes a deep breath as he joins his brother, the last of the laundry neatly folded and back in the basket. John’s quiet for a moment, glad that the two of them are looking directly at him now.

He speaks softly, not wanting to startle either of them. “I want to know what happened here, boys.”

“Sir?” Dean’s not sure what their father is asking, but Sam has a pretty good idea.

“Sir…” The trailing word says that Sam’s thought this over. He clears his throat before he speaks again. “We thought we could get it handled fast… faster.”

John nods. It’s partly his fault. He knows the boys need the downtime, it’s not usual for them to interrupt it, and he’s not surprised their rebellion took the form it did. “It’s not like you boys to neglect researching tasks.”

Sam’s head snaps up, and John knows in that instant that they had done their research, knows where they made their error.

“Sir, I…” He’s trying not to sound offended, John hears. “We did research, sir. I was sure-“

Dean interrupts, now. “We were both sure that we’d covered all the bases, sir.” The confidence in his tone is clear, and Sam looks a little defiant, hearing his brother’s voice. John simply stands up, grabs hold of Sam’s arm, and the defiance wavers.

“I think you know you didn’t cover all your bases, Sam.”

“Sir?”

There’s confusion there. Good. He can make his point quick and harsh then. “Did you talk to Jim about any of this?” Sam’s eyes widen, and pales with the realization.

“D-dad-“ There’s his cue. John turns the boy slightly, and swats him a couple of times, quits when he feels the boy tremble a little, lands the last of the six lighter than the others.

“I know you didn’t talk to Jim. You see your error in this now?”

“Yessir.” Sam’s eyes are downcast, likely full of tears. He pulls the boy in roughly, gets his arms around him. Sam’s resisting just a little, and John makes sure his voice is gentle.

“You’re good at your job, Sam, but you’re lacking the experience that Bobby and Jim have. Why do you think I still call them, when I stumble on something new, even though you and I research things together? Understand me?” Sam nods into the worn flannel of his father’s shirt, and John knows that’s all the boy’s going to be able to take – Sam’s not often lacking for words. He hugs him for just a minute. “Now sit down.” He has to choke back a laugh at the new horror on Sam’s face, but the boy takes a ginger seat on the edge of the bed.

John turns to Dean, watching the older boy brace himself. “Now, you, Dean, you know better on several levels.” He ticks the points off on is fingers, practically nose to nose with his son. “You didn’t have your back covered out there, Dean, standing right where I could come up behind you? You know perfectly well that a summoning can attract other things. You may roll your eyes at the time I take to plan, but it prevents stupid mistakes like that. You understand me? And how many times have we ever taken on a job without having someone like Bobby aware of what we’re doing, just in case we need something like, oh, backup, or someone to haul our sorry asses out and stitch them back together?” Dean wilts before him. John knows from the setup out there that Dean did put together a plan, knows it from the way the boy never took his eyes away from Sam last night, but the points still need to be made. “I’m waiting for an answer, son.”

Dean chokes. The boy’s never good at owning up to his mistakes, but they’re laid out there before him. It’s half of what there is to the art of making sure Dean’s punished, because he’s good at backing out of tight corners. John waits, and when the boy doesn’t speak, he reaches out, same as he did with Sam, and drives the lesson home with a set of hard swats. He doesn’t hold back with Dean. There’s a little choked noise from the boy, exactly what he was hoping for, and he pulls the young man in close. “Dammit, Dean,” he says quietly.

“I’m s-sorry, Dad, I’m sorry.” And just like that, the tension’s melting out of the room.

He lets go of his son a moment later, shirt front suspiciously damp. “Now have a seat, Dean. Right there next to your brother.” John takes the chair, sets it in front of the boys, and gets a matched pair of panicked looks. He’s not going to spank them again, but he knows damn well it looks to them like he’s intending to, and it won’t hurt to remind them not to make assumptions about their father.

“Now then,” he says quietly. “You owe both Bobby and Jim apologies, which they’re ready to hear any time you know what it is you need to say. You need any more help figuring that out,” he asks, and gets a matching pair of headshakes, no. “We’re maybe gonna stay here a little longer than usual. And I don’t think the two of you will be surprised to hear that I don’t want you out of this house without knowing where you are.”

“Yessir.” The matching subdued tones reassure him.

“Sam, Jim will be staying for a few days over Thanksgiving, you’ve got some extra lessons with him, understand me? Dean, you’ll be with me and Bobby, we’re gonna give you a few reminders in the tactics department. Any arguments?”

“No, sir.” Their voices are quiet, respectful, and still pretty tense. John stands up and returns the chair to it’s place, can practically taste the surprised relief.

“Breakfast’ll be on the table in ten, you finish your chores up here and get down there.”

“Yessir.” He closes the door behind them, perfectly aware that the room is in apple pie order. He’s also aware of the fact that the two of them are a little shaken, upset with themselves, and he’s giving them the time to comfort one another. He breathes a little more easily himself, glad he didn’t have to pull out the big guns, and in the bedroom, he hears both of the boys come up off the bed like they’ve been shot from a cannon - he’ll laugh when he’s downstairs.

Sam clings to his big brother, and in return lets Dean rest his head on Sam’s broad shoulder. This time, the kiss is a little deeper, a little more thankful. They made it through this one, even though they’re gonna have to tread softly for a while, and they’ve got time for it – they’re safe in Bobby’s comfortable house – for a while, it’ll be home.


End file.
